The faint sound of harp playing in the background drowned the wholeness of a priestess' chambers—every melodic twirl of a musician's hand to the strings drove anyone that listened into a spell. But none but the Diener des Lichts were there and a single priestess submerged into a lagoon enveloped with aromatic scents and fragrant petals. Her hair was laid onto the waters like threads of gold glistening against the sunlight. A priestess cannot be hypnotized by anything - even beautiful music.
Sheilalev Ortfalcon glanced to nothing—her eyes looking like yellow tulips depleted of light. Her servants were standing just a distance away from her as she bathes, guarding her chamber doors, face being covered by their moss-covered shawls.
In Sheila's eyes—there wasn't anything but the color of night. She used to perceive many colors, and she wished she admired them better when she was still able to see the beauty of sight. But then she took it for granted—and here she was now, blind.
